


One Door Closes...

by TaylorLives



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Co-Written, Hunting, M/M, Multiple Authors, Non-Graphic Violence, Phanfiction Telephone Event, Zombie AU, Zombie Apocalypse, non graphic gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 10:34:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20388295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaylorLives/pseuds/TaylorLives
Summary: The day Dan's world ends is long after the apocalypse begins, but he can't give up yet. Hope is sparse but he's not doing it for himself. Everything he does is for Phil. His survival, his safety. All to keep Phil from falling into the wrong hands. But maybe his hands aren't the right ones either.AKA the Zombie AU





	One Door Closes...

**Author's Note:**

> *For the Phanfiction Telephone Event* This was written with two other authors, I only wrote the ending. The other two will be credited upon the reveal. I guess something happened where two people were assigned part 3 for this fic but this one is my ending.

_Everything was moving so fast. I barely had the time to think as I knelt over his limp body, checking his pulse for the hundredth time over. The world around me spun in circles and the ground seemed to liquefy, all the while my eyes burned with tears I wouldn’t set free. Crying meant it was real. Crying meant I had given up. Crying meant that I would never see his beautiful blue eyes again, never laugh at bad movies with him again, never again yell at him for eating my cereal, no more good morning kisses and goodnight hugs..._

  
I started awake in a cold sweat, the space in the bed next to me nearly as empty as my heart felt. I twisted myself to look out the back window, squinting to make out any of the undead bastards that might be loitering outside. I checked to make sure nothing had been stolen in the dead of night, though I doubted it; I hadn’t managed to get a gun yet, since those tend to be harder to find in the UK. I’d chosen to stick more to the oh-so-generic yet functional nail-covered bat. I’d nearly given myself tetanus on multiple occasions, and if it can accidentally almost kill me, it should be perfectly fine at purposefully killing zombies. I grabbed the bat and, grudgingly, walked outside. Looking around, the coast seemed to be clear of anyone, infected or otherwise.  
Perfect.  
  
I stalked into the forest and quietly as I could, checking each of the traps I had set for any unfortunate small mammals that wandered past. Over the course of roughly half an hour, I managed to collect three squirrels, an abundance of mice, and a rabbit. I was very happy with the overall catch; rabbits weren’t all too common around these parts.  
  
I slowly made my way back to my makeshift shelter, making sure to check for zombies and other people as I traversed the overgrown bush. Honestly, I was less scared of the zombies. They scared me at first, but now im an expert at dealing with them. People? Not so much. Honestly, they still scared me; I was perfectly fine with it just being me and Phil for a while, that is, until...Well, let’s just say I couldn’t exactly talk to him much anymore.

  
After about a half hour walk (I don’t like to be near the woods, where anything or anyone can jump out at me without warning. I prefer a place where I can see everything for miles), I finally made it back to my shelter. I had long since barricaded the place. I butchered each of the animals; I had practice, so it didn't take long. I made sure to keep the heads intact. I out each animal head in a small pouch and spent about ten minutes unlocking the door to the back room. I stepped in and saw a sight that, even after all this time, made me ill. There, in a heavily barred cage, was Phil, in all of his zombified...I would say glory, but in all honesty, I can't even say that sarcastically. When he got infected, I didn't have the heart to kill him, not after all this time. The others in our little group left me with him, saying that if I kept him, he would only eat me and leave me for dead. I knew they were right, but still...I couldn't do it. Not when His bright blue eyes still looked into my soul, as deadened and inhuman as they were. They were still beautiful eyes; They were still _Phil’s_ eyes.

  
I turned my head away and slowly shook the contents of the bag out onto the floor, cautiously kicking them through the metal bars. He rushed forward to the source of food, barbarically smashing open each skull and eating the much inside. Unable to watch any longer, I left the room, taking care to board the door back up in the occasion that he did manage to escape his iron cell. I spent the rest of the evening in silence, as I usually did; I don’t believe I'd actually spoken at all since he turned. I'm not even sure if I still can, if I remember how. I suppose it’s just how things are now.

You get used to things. How they are is how they’ve always been, it’s some 1984 bull right there.

  
There is a man in Europe, who had found a cure (apparently). _But even if he had, I thought, It’ll be politicians, police, army men. It won’t be Phil._ I could try to get there, I could run right up to his front door (if I could find where he lived) and then I could get shot. No, if there is a solution, I’ll have to get it through different means. But I can’t. This was how I thought every night, trying to get to sleep. Well, not even trying at this point.

  
My stupidly large vocabulary and average education has never helped in this whole fiasco. Fortunately, I am also a god damn coward, which is fun because I never feel the need to communicate with anyone and so far I _haven’t_ been killed. But everything changed when the morning rose.

  
Someone knocked at the door. Grabbing the bat from next to my bed, I ran to the door. Waiting. If they are so desperate, they’ll probably break the door down and, if they are a zombie, I’ll be ready. Or maybe if they aren’t a zombie.

Well, the door breaks. Rip door. An elderly woman was stood there, covered in blood. She doesn’t look like a zombie, but sometimes it’s like that.

“Speak.” I demand. So it looks like I can still speak. And my voice still sounds as dumb as ever, it’s almost laughable.

“Hello?” She asks, sounding frail and slightly agitated. “Is that good enough for you?” ah, it seems she is also sarcastic. Sarcastic granny covered in blood. That’d be a video.

“Yeah, I suppose.” I mumble “What do you want? Because you’re not staying here if that’s what you’re-”

“I’m not. I need food, also I’m feeling generous.”

“Generous?” I ask.

“Yeah, yeah, you see I have this project which I thought the locals round here would back me up on when I get to Europe.”

_Europe- is she serious?_

She went to raid the cupboards and came back with a can of soup or something.

“What’s your name?” she asks me.

“Doesn’t matter, what’s your project?” I respond immediately. She frowns.

“Okay, fine. I’ve been working on a chemical that could-”

“Oh my god you have a cure” I near-shout without even thinking.

“No… I have a chemical which could kill all the undead when released into the atmosphere. There is no cure.”

There is no cure.  
There is _no_ cure.  
Oh my god.  
There’s no-  
There is no cure.  
Phil.

“Why wouldn’t you work on a cure, though?”

She smiles at me and then shakes her head. “I did. The decay of the flesh is impossible to reverse. All the test subjects died immediately after.”

“But what if the decay had been limited?” I think of Phil. He hasn’t been able to move that much, in fact he still looks pretty human.

“Well I couldn’t find any, but _I suppose_.”

I draw a deep breath.

“I have a test subject.”

She looks around warily, pressing her lips together and rolling the can back and forth idly in her hands. Listening for something.

“This test subject,” She begins. “How long has he been infected?”

Couldn't have been more than a few weeks, but time moves differently now. It seems like just yesterday me and Phil were editing a new video on the comfort of our couch. It honestly hurts too much to think about; the before.

“Maybe 3 weeks? A month?”

The old woman nods in an almost knowing way. “I'm surprised you’ve made it this long with the company of one of _them_ so close.”

She paces around the small landing of the shack, shoving the can into her shoulder bag and digging around in it further.

“He’s different” I say as I grip my bat just a little tighter, preparing for the almost inevitable betrayal that comes with human nature. Phil isn't one of _them_. Even as a flesh-eating monster, he’s nothing like _them_. Maybe I’ve completely gone mad, but even as a zombie Phil’s been fairly quiet and well behaved.

Instead, she hums and pulls out a small vial and a black palm-sized case.

“I mean, it’s certainly worth a try.” Out of the case, the woman pulls a needle, sticking it into the vial and drawing up the yellowish liquid. “But if you wind up ending the life of a loved one, a loved one that you couldn't bring yourself to kill in the first place mind you, then I don't want to be around when you snap.”

The realization pulls on something I refuse to acknowledge, something I much prefer to swallow down like everything else.

“Thanks for dinner.” She sets the loaded needle down on the dusty counter, patting her bag again. “If his brain isn't too far gone, after you inject the serum he should just be able to sleep it off. Best of luck.”

Just like that, she's gone as fast as she came. But it’s almost worse to be alone with my own thoughts again.

I drop the bat with a loud clatter, scooping up the needle carefully.

Is it even worth it? At least now I still have Phil, in a way. If I were able to kill him I would've the second we knew, the second he started begging. He never wanted me to see him like that.

I remember now why I stick to the status quo. The new one of just hunting, feeding myself and Phil,_ staying alive._ It’s much easier to avoid the guilt this way. Thinking of what I could've, what I _should've_ done.

Living as a zombie is nothing but suffering, and for what? My own selfish need to keep holding on?

I didn't realize I was crying until I angrily start wiping the tears away. I've been nothing but selfish to the man who has my whole heart. Truly the love of my life. My soulmate.

I inhale deeply, pulling the key out of my pocket and making my way to the backroom, taking my time undoing all the locks and boards.

At the sound of the door, Phil perks up, forces himself into a standing position and throws himself weakly into the thick metal bars.

“No food this time.” I say quietly. I feel like I’m gonna be sick. I’ve never actually spoken to him like this before. My best friend, in a cage. It’s no wonder I refused to see this at face value.

Phil groans, clawing through the bars. I lock the door behind myself and slide down the wall next to the cage, pulling my knees up to my chest.

“I know you didn't want this.”

Phil gets antsier at my proximity, clawing more desperately at the air. Looking for food.

“And I’m so sorry I didn't see before.” I fidget with the needle, not uncapping it yet. “I’m so sorry Phil.”

Phil doesn't react to the words. He’s too driven by the primitive need to hunt. His lack of human response is enough to do it. Even if he dies, he’ll be at rest and not stuck in a cage until his death. Or mine.

I stand up shakily, uncapping the needle and grab tightly to one of his cold, flailing arms. “I love you Phil. Always.”

I push the needle in, injecting the fluid into him. Phil snarls, pulling his arm away, becoming more agitated. It seems to do nothing and it's absolutely a punch to the chest.

“I’m so sorry Phil.” I cry, practically sobbing now. “So, so sorry.”

I slink back into my seat against the wall, hugging my knees and sobbing into them. I try to ignore the sound of him thrashing about. What have I done?

-+-

I didn't intend to fall asleep. I was just so tired from all the tears.

“Dan?”

What am I to do now? Everything was for him. Staying alive to take care of him, to make sure no one hurt him. All for nothing.

“Dan?”

I rub the sleep from my eyes, pushing myself back up into a sitting position. I’m not sure how long I was out, but it was long enough to curl up on the floor apparently.

“You finally awake now?”

I jump at the sound. At the voice.

Phil is sitting up in the cage, albeit a bit slumped against the wall as well, but awake. _Alive._

“Phil oh my god.” I exclaim, jumping up, ignoring the black spots that flood my vision. I root around for the cage key, practically dropping it in the process.

My hands are shaking as I finally get it in, turning the lock and throwing the door open.

“Is this real? Are you awake? Are you okay?” I rush to his side, lifting his arms to check him over as he laughs weakly.

The injection site is bruised to hell and rotting, like actually rotting. I let Phil’s arms go gently, taking a seat beside him and softly taking his hands.

“Yeah, I’m awake.” Phil says, not gripping mine back. I run my thumbs across him limp fingers. “Don't know how okay I am though.” he says with a wince.

I flinch, not knowing what to say. “I- Phil, I-”

“Shh Dan I know, I know.” He says, fingers twitching as he tries to comfort me. But it’s no use, he can't move more than a few centimeters.

The tears are back full force, pouring over my cheeks. “How much do you remember?” I ask, coming to the sudden realization that he doesn't seem too confused about his current living situation.

Phil smiles sadly, further breaking my heart. “I remember it all Dan.”

A broken sob escapes my lips. “Phil, I’m so sorry I-”

“It’s a lot to ask Dan, I know.” He interrupts. “For you to take my life, even under these circumstances. You made me as comfortable as you could, and I’m grateful for that.”

I let go of one of his hands to wipe my tears away. “I’m still sorry this even happened at all.”

“I know Dan.” he smiles again, still the most beautiful and radiant smile.

I can't help but smile back sadly. “You feel alright though?” I ask. “The serum worked?”

I take a moment to actually look him over. His right arm is badly damaged in a way that looks like it might begin to fall apart. He’s paler than usual, bordering on a sickly green. Lips chapped and cracked and still bloodstained from his last meal.

Phil’s once shiny black hair is now dull and faded. I run a hand through it. Brittle, strands coming out between my fingers. Not to mention he’s far too skinny, almost a skeleton of his former self.

I feel the knowing signs of panic begin to set in. “I mean, you can move right?”

I start to get up but Phil uses his good arm to keep me on the floor beside him. “Dan. I couldn't feel it before, but…” He gingerly lifts up the cuffs of his once tight jeans. His legs are almost black. Necrosis. “I really can't.”

“T-that's okay Phil, I’m sure I can find you some kind of wheelchair around here somewhere. All the hospitals are long since cleaned out but I’m sure there are some around, I can-”

Phil lifts up his shirt to inspect his sunken stomach, ribs jutting out, barely just skin draped over bones. Enough to stop me mid-sentence as I try to control my breathing. “Dan I honestly can't tell you how I’m able to sit up and talk to you right now. I felt my heart slow to a stop not long after I turned. I’m not sure what you gave me but-”

“Don't even talk like that Phil, you're here, you're awake and breathing and alive and with me.” I cry.

Phil takes my hand and places it over his heart.

Thump…

  
Thump…

  
Barely alive. “Phil.”

“I know Dan.” He says again, calm as ever. I've always admired his ability to stay level headed in even the worst situations. “There’s no other place I’d rather spend my last moments than in your arms.”

“You know how much I love you right?” I ask, trying to steady my breathing even though I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. He needs to know. “Since the moment I laid eyes on you I knew you were different. _Special._ The first time I heard your voice over the phone, the first time we met. God Phil, I’ve never felt a love like this.”

Tears slowly ran down Phil’s pale cheeks, glistening against his dusty skin. “And I love you Dan. Always.”

“This can't be all there is Phil.” I say, pulling his fragile body close.

He nuzzles his face into my chest softly. “It’s not Dan. Find a cure. You never give yourself enough credit but you’re so smart. If anyone can, it’s you.”

I sniffle brushing my hand through his dry hair. I know now that that woman’s cure had some substance to it. If I could find her again, maybe we could work together to figure something out. Maybe the serum could be injected when bit, before the transformation had time to complete.

Phil is right though. She’s on to something. While it didn't work on those that were too far gone, it worked on Phil. At least long enough to wake him back up. I just have to find her and get to Europe in once piece.

“You’re right Phil. Always are.” I say, holding him close. “I’ll figure something out. I’ll do it for you.”

Phil doesn't respond.

“Phil?”

I carefully lean back, Phil moving with me. Silent, lifeless. The tears well back up, dripping into his hair. My heart shatters for the second time.

But this time, it won't be for nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay listen,,,, I have my reasons okay. No one said this had to be a happy ending. Hope you enjoy anyways. 
> 
> phanfictionevents.tumblr.com /// jon-walker-the-bass-player.tumblr.co


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